


you feel your sins crawling on your back

by marigold_bumblebee



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bukkake, Cuckolding, Dom/sub, Double Vaginal Penetration, Ecto-Genitalia (Undertale), Ecto-Tongue (Undertale), F/F, F/M, Feminization, Gangbang, Gaster Papyrus (Undertale), Genderbending, Honeymoon, Insecurity, Lesbian Sex, M/M, Making Love, Masturbation, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, One Shot Collection, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Smut, Swapfell Papyrus (Undertale), Swapfell Sans (Undertale), Teacher-Student Relationship, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Voice Kink, fem reader unless otherwise specified
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-07 05:16:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18613900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marigold_bumblebee/pseuds/marigold_bumblebee
Summary: A collection of pornographic drabbles involving everyone's favorite characters from the Underground.Please feel free to leave any requests in the comments!*might take me a hot minute to update because of finals, but in a few weeks I should get back to writing your regularly scheduled porn





	1. Cuckold (Sans/Red/Edge/Stretch/Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans is a cuck. Voyeurism, light dom/sub, degradation.

You’re not entirely sure how you got here.

Well, ok, yes you are, but you kind of wish you could forget. The circumstances of your situation are… humiliating (in a way that you definitely don’t enjoy, ha, that would make you a freak, which you definitely aren’t).

It had started with a simple question. A shy suggestion from your husband, who had drowned you in reassurances and “just an idea, no pressure”’s, but at the same time had piqued your curiosity.

You had only married Sans a few months ago… was this really okay?

He told you it was more than okay. Bright blue, looking down at his slippered feet, he told you that it was something he had been thinking about, had been _wanting,_ for a while.

So he picked the guys for you, had you meet them over coffee to make sure you liked them, and now you’re here, standing in front of the three of them while Sans stands to the side and leers.

The slouchy one who calls himself Stretch approaches you first, easing his hands over your hips and kissing you, more softly than you expected. He tastes like smoke and honey, and does a funny thing with his tongue that leaves you embarrassingly breathless.

“take off your top,” Sans says when he pulls away. “show them your tits.”

You obey, your hands shaking and your face hot. A pulse of heat goes to your core at the way they all stare at you, like you’re a buffet spread out before them.

“YOUR BRA, TOO,” the tallest one snarls. Edge, you think his name is. Your head is already fuzzy and names are a bit beyond you at the moment.

Obediently, you open the closure on your bra and let it fall away. Almost immediately, the one who looks like your husband is on you. His name, you remember, is Red, and his hands are furnace hot as they grope your chest, thumbs skimming over your nipples and making you gasp.

“these are _nice,”_ he purrs, flashing a fanged grin. “boss, come and feel her.”

Edge steps closer in one long stride and traces his phalanges slowly over your waist. The tips of them are sharp, which shouldn’t excite you, but somehow makes your stomach curl with heat anyway.

You gasp again. Stretch has crept up behind you and grabbed two greedy handfuls of your ass, kneading them in his skilled palms.

“nice from back here, too,” Stretch remarks. Your husband watches, eyelights bright. You’re honestly surprised he isn’t drooling.

They feel you up a bit longer, groping at your thighs, your breasts, your ass, your waist-- everything they can get their hands on except the place you want them to touch most. By now, you know your panties are wet. How could they not be? All this attention has you practically gushing.

“that’s enough,” Sans calls. He’s moved to stand at the end of the bed and you can hear that his breathing is uneven. Your precious sugar skull is _excited_ by the idea of watching three other men rail you. “come lie down, baby.”

You follow his command, docile mostly because this is his game. Normally there’d be a playful fight, but you know he needs to have this position of power.

When you lie down, flat on your back with your knees up, Sans walks closer and spreads your legs open. He snickers, an unusually cruel sound that makes you blush down to your chest.

“oh, _baby,”_ he croons. The other three watch avidly as he strokes a phalange down the soaked fabric of your underwear. “you got your panties all wet, huh?”

You cover your face with your hands, making all four of them chuckle. They have remarkably similar laughs, all low and dark and unspeakably arousing. You squirm on the bed, trying to subtly buck your hips up into your husband's questing fingers, but he pulls away with a click of his tongue. 

"fucking dirty bitch," Red growls. When you raise your eyes to look at him, he's got a hand down his shorts and there's a soft red glow coming from his crotch. A quick glance around affords the knowledge that the others are in similar states. 

Sans's finger comes back to slip your panties to the side, and you inhale as the cool air hits your bare sex. 

He bends down to whisper in your ear and just his breath on you makes your whole body flush with heat. "he's right, you know. you're fucking dirty. this is as much for you as it is for me, isn't it? you  _like_ it." You go to nod but he catches your chin in his hand, stopping the motion in its tracks. "you don't have to tell me. i know it's true. they've barely even touched you and you're fucking dripping." 

You make a sharp, whining noise in the back of your throat that can only be described as a  _keen._

He releases you and stands back straight like nothing's happened. 

"fuck her." Sans says simply, waving a dismissive hand and going to stand back in the corner by the head of the bed. He's not but a few feet from you but still he feels so unreachable. Before he looked excited, but now he almost seems bored. For some reason unknown to you, the idea makes you writhe. 

Edge grins, all jagged fang-points and sharp arousal. "THOUGHT YOU WOULD NEVER OFFER." You notice that his skinny jeans are tented and glowing vaguely burgundy through the fabric. The sound of his jeans unzipping does something funny to your insides, but it doesn't affect you nearly as much as the way he stalks over and rips your panties from your body in one smooth motion. 

He reaches into his pants and pulls out a cock that's bigger than Sans's. Significantly. And Sans isn't small. 

Edge is thick and stupidly long, maybe eight inches or some equally obscene measurement. He presses the blunt head to your opening, sliding it up and down slowly and making you moan. 

Normally you'd be worried about being stretched out enough to take it, but you and Sans spent most of this morning working you open and loose over and over again. You still feel the same, open and loose and dripping, ready to take even something as big as Edge. 

Even though you're stretched, when he presses into you, you shriek, and Red and Stretch laugh. They make some snide remark or another that you can't quite hear. Your mind is zeroed in on the presence inside you, on the look of rapture in Edge's eyes as he starts to move with long, slow rolls of his pelvis. 

"hey." Sans is by your side again, snapping his fingers in your face. "don't look at him. you look at  **me**. " 

You meet his eyes and all of a sudden it's almost like he's the one that's fucking you this full, that's rubbing bone fingers in circles on your clit, that's hitching your thigh over his shoulder and nearly crushing you beneath his weight. 

He touches your cheek. The tip of a phalange runs over your bottom lip. 

"I love you," you murmur, spellbound, and Sans grins. 

"i know." 

He turns to the room at large. "no need to be left out. she's still got hands and a mouth, doesn't she?" 

Edge makes a low, broken growl of a noise. "YOUR BITCH IS FUCKING  _TIGHT,_ VANILLA, STARS- _DAMN."_

Stretch smirks and sidles up to the opposite side of the bed, something almost feline in the sexed-up sway of his hips. "you gonna take care of me, human?" He asks, humor in his voice as he pulls out his cock and pumps it a few times in front of your face. It's bright tangerine orange and you want it in your mouth desperately. 

"C-C'mere," you tell him. It's hard to get proper thoughts out, much less words. Edge has a skilled cock and skilled fingers and Sans's gaze is burning a hole into you. Stretch manages to understand you anyway and brings his cock to your lips, the familiar fizzy taste of magic spreading over your tongue as you take him into your mouth. 

You reach out for Red, who approaches at a more sedate pace, his hand still working up and down inside his basketball shorts. 

"i think i can take care of myself just fine here, dollface." You would protest, but your mouth is sort of occupied and you're slowly becoming more and more brain dead as Edge fucks you into stupidity. 

He tugs his shorts down and starts jerking himself off over your breasts, occasionally slipping a hand down to cup at your tits and pinch your nipples. 

Without warning, Stretch pulls out of your mouth with a low curse and thick ropes of orange magic spurt out to cover your face. You don't think even Sans knows this, but you have a huge thing for cum being on you,  _inside you,_  anywhere you can get it. Having him absolutely cover you like this, enough to start dripping down your chin and on to your neck... it drives you crazy. 

You moan and clench around Edge, who curses and starts pounding you even harder, slamming into your cervix with every thrust. Stretch slinks away after kissing your magic-smeared cheek, wandering off presumably to find the bathroom.

Sans comes back over, and no matter how unbothered his expression is, you still can see the blue tent in his pants. He rasps into your ear, sounding absolutely  _wrecked,_ "who does your pussy belong to?" 

 _"F-fuh-uckkk,"_   you groan, tipping your head back into the headboard. "It's yours!"

"not good enough. say, 'my pussy belongs to you, sans'." 

"M-My pussy belongs-- _fuck, right there, please--_ to yu-you, Sans." 

"there, now. that wasn't so hard, was it?" His eyelights rake over your form, from the cum spatters on your face to the two skeletons left still using your body to their satisfaction. His sockets narrow and for a second you almost think he can see the way your walls are fluttering around Edge's cock. 

"you're about to cum, aren't you." 

Fuck, maybe he can. 

"betcha feel it building. wouldn’t be surprised that a slut like you already has to cum. well, you’re gonna hold it. you’re not cumming til i say so, bitch.”

"sh-hiiit," Red hisses. His hand speeds up on his cock and he comes undone just like that, cumming thick red streaks across your tits and making you nearly cry with the need to orgasm. 

  _"Please,_ Sans," you beg, panting as Edge's hips piston in and out of you, relentless. 

"aren't you feeling fucking  _nasty._ i know you love feeling dirty. all exposed to me, covered in other men's magic. open for business. like a fucking  _whore."_  

Edge grunts and slams inside you even faster. He's about to cum and you are too. His thumb rubs your clit in fast circles and even though you feel yourself on the brink you can't bring yourself to orgasm. You look at Sans, pleading, and he sighs. 

"fine. fucking cum. cum on edge's cock instead of your husband's like the slut you are." 

You fucking  _howl,_ shaking and clenching around Edge, who growls and spills inside you, hot, thick loads painting your walls burgundy with his magic. 

When he pulls out, you're left on the bed alone, chest heaving and cum dripping from your face, chest, and pussy. Edge and Red tuck themselves back into their pants and leave the bedroom, lazy smiles on their skulls. Sans just smiles at you all sugar-sweet from the corner. 

He takes your hand in his. 

His eyelights flicker out and his smile turns dark. 

"now it's my turn." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have a pairing or kink you want me to write, please leave your request in the comments :)


	2. Mistress (Sans/Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans is in trouble. Dom/sub, spanking, cunnilingus, crying, kind of genderbending?

“Sans, I love you, but you have approximately ten seconds to shut your fucking mouth before I shut it for you.” 

Sans’s jaw snaps closed with an audible  _ click. _

Good. At least he’s back to being obedient. 

You’ve just arrived home from a night out. Your third anniversary dinner, in fact. Your third anniversary dinner where Sans showed up twenty minutes late, embarrassed you in front of the restaurant staff and other patrons, and refused to eat a single bite of his $75 meal without drowning it in ketchup first. 

Yeah, you’re fucking pissed. 

You slam the door shut behind you as you stalk inside. Sans is standing in the middle of the living room, shifting guiltily from foot to foot as though he’s only just realized the gravity of the situation. 

Papyrus left last night for an extended sleepover at Undyne’s place, to give you and Sans some privacy for your anniversary. 

You plan to take full advantage of this fact. 

“Strip,” you order, shrugging off your coat and turning your back on Sans. You find yourself having trouble actually looking at him without wanting to strangle him. When you spare a glance at him, he’s taken off his shirt and his slippers  _ (slippers,  _ to your anniversary dinner) but is hesitating at his pants. 

“Fucking strip. You heard me, take it off.” 

Wincing, he tugs down his basketball shorts and his boxers all in one blow, revealing a half-chubbed neon blue cock that normally would make your mouth water. 

Tonight, you just roll your eyes. 

“Make a  _ cunt,”  _ you snap. “You know the rules. You wanna act like a bitch, you better be prepared to fucking be one.” 

Sans shivers as he reforms his magic into a pussy, thick and pretty, glowing softly blue. He’s gorgeous, he always is, but viciously you think he doesn’t deserve your admiration. Not tonight. 

“mistress,” he starts, but you cut him off with a bitter laugh. 

“Oh, so now I’m ‘Mistress’? Why wasn’t I ‘Mistress’ earlier? What made you decide to be a little brat and disobey me when you  _ knew  _ tonight was important?” 

“i didn’t mean to embarrass you, mistress,” Sans says quietly, squirming under your gaze and staring at the floor. “i’m sorry.” 

And he is. You can tell. His voice is  _ so  _ tiny. 

But you find that you don’t really want his apologies. 

“m-maybe i could pleasure you? with my mouth, mistress? i know you like it best with my mouth, mistress, i could pleasure you so well--” 

“No, I think we ought to make tonight about you. You certainly made our dinner about you, so we might as well follow the trend.” 

Sans winces and you have to make the conscious decision to ease up. You don’t want to make him cry from feeling unloved; you want him to cry from being loved  _ so much, _ from being fucked  _ so good. _ He fucked up and you’re going to punish him, but it’s still your anniversary and you still love him, so you want to make it good. 

“of course, mistress. anything for you.” 

“Go upstairs and wait on the bed. Lay on your back. I’ll be up shortly.” 

“yes, mistress.” 

And he’s gone. You have a bag downstairs with your toothbrush and pajamas and a few spare sets of clothes in it, as though you don’t practically live in Sans’s house anyway, and you sift through it now. You pull out a comfy tank top that you know does good things for your tits and a pair of old sweatpants. 

You change out of your dress, taking your sweet time, and head upstairs. 

You find Sans spread out on the bed, his legs parted to reveal that perfectly sculpted pussy. It’s glistening with moisture, and you want nothing more than to dip your tongue in and lick up into his dripping heat. 

So, grabbing him by the hips and tugging him to the edge of the bed, ignoring his yelp, you do exactly that. 

He whimpers, digging his phalanges into your hair. You want to scold him but  _ goddamn,  _ his cunt tastes so good. Magic always tastes strange and fizzy, almost like soda or pop rocks in your mouth. You love it though, always have, and plunge your tongue deeper inside him, trying to lap up all of that unique flavor. 

His iliac crests are sharp and jut out at an awkward angle, but you know that they’re sensitive, so you run a hand over them, skimming your fingers over the bone. Sans groans and tosses his skull back on the mattress with a soft  _ thump.  _

“Easy to please,” you murmur into his cunt. You pull up a bit to start sucking on his clit, revelling in the noises he makes. 

And  _ stars,  _ but he makes noises. His ribcage heaves, low noises escaping him as your tongue laves over his engorged clit, moaning deep and wretched, making these sweet little gasps like sobs into the sheets. 

You make a vague attempt not to slurp, wanting to sound all dignified and dominatrix-y, but it falls by the wayside the moment Sans starts to whine and absolutely  _ flood  _ your tongue with slick. He’s so wet it’s insane, and you can’t get enough. To hell with keeping your face clean. You want to  _ drown _ . 

You wrap your hands firmly around his femurs  _ (thick thighs save lives,  _ you think with an internal snicker) and he starts shuddering, bones rattling and phalanges twisting in the covers.

“"m- _ ah,  _ mistress, i-i'm gonna-- i'm gonna c- _ cum--"  _

Immediately you pull away, gently removing his hands from your hair and sitting back on your haunches. A little self-consciously, you wipe at your chin, wrinkling your nose a little at the sheer amount of magic that comes off on your hand.

It takes a moment, but Sans’s shaking settles and he whimpers, high and sweet. Like a spoiled princess who’s been denied. 

You chuckle. 

“Only good boys get to cum, baby, you know that.” You climb up onto the bed with him, parting his legs further with your hands and settling yourself right between them. 

“Stars, look at how wet you are. You’re making a blue puddle on the sheets.” 

Sans’s skull flushes dark blue. “a-am i really? i’m sorry mistress, i didn’t mean to.” 

“You should be sorry. This is absolutely shameful. But,” your smile turns predatory. “It would be a pity to waste it.” 

You run the tip of a finger gently over his opening, eased by his wetness, relishing in his shiver. You bring your head down closer, trying to get a better look at him. 

“Just  _ look  _ at this pussy,” you croon, prodding more insistently now at his entrance. “Gorgeous. All slick and ready for me. You’ll be well on your way to making up for your actions at dinner if you keep fucking  _ dripping  _ like this.” 

Sans turns impossibly darker, his skull going an intriguing shade of navy. 

“thank you, mistress,” he says finally, staring at the bed and not you. 

Not one to be ignored, you plunge two fingers in at once, unable to bring yourself to tease any longer. Sans gasps, his spine arching off the bed. 

You fuck him hard with your fingers, curling them up to rub that secret spot inside him that makes him howl. 

The wet sound of your fingers sliding in and out of him sends a curl of heat to your core, and you know that your own panties are just as soaked as the sheets beneath Sans. 

When you add a third finger, he clenches up so hard you can barely even move your hand, strangled moans tearing out of him. He starts rutting himself against your fingers, chasing a release that you’re unwilling to grant him. 

It’s absolutely intoxicating. 

_ “Fuck, _ how are you still so tight? God, it’s like your pussy’s pulling me in,” you laugh breathlessly as Sans’s walls flutter around your fingers, desperate to keep you inside. 

“a-always tight for you, mistress,” Sans grunts with a weak smile. 

He cries out sharply when your fingers begin massaging at his g-spot and you know that he’s close again. You wonder if you should be merciful. 

“Sans, baby, should I let you cum? Do you think that you deserve to cum?” 

“n-no!” Sans chokes out, his breathing coming hard and fast. You continue to relentlessly finger fuck him, not slowing your pace even for a moment.

“And why is that?” 

He groans and clutches desperately at the bedsheets. A thin line of neon drool trails down his jaw. “I-i was,  _ hah,  _ i was b-bad and  _ oohstars,  _ i dis-disrespe-ected you and  _ fuck, mistress, _ i ru-ruined our night!” 

“No, you didn’t ruin the night,” you soothe, pressing a kiss to the nearest bone-- tibia, you think. “Dinner, yes, was ruined. Not our night.” Tears are forming at the corners of Sans’s eye sockets and he’s shaking all over. 

You sharpen your voice. “But you still ruined dinner. You were bad. You  _ are  _ bad, just look at you. About to cum on my fingers.” You scoff. “You’re  _ so. Fucking. Easy. _ ” He flinches and quivers and you can literally feel yourself dripping. 

You look at him dispassionately, then, with a bit of effort, ease your fingers from Sans’s cunt. 

“Sit up.” 

Still shaking, Sans pushes slowly up onto his elbows and then pulls himself up to a sitting position. His femurs especially are very nearly vibrating, and they’re absolutely covered in slowly drying streaks of blue. 

“Suck.” You offer him your magic-coated fingers, which he takes into his mouth eagerly, lapping at his own juices with unexpected fervor. 

“Fucking disgusting. Bet you like the way you taste, huh? Whores like you always do.” 

He shudders but you can tell by his blush that he likes it. He loves being spoken to like this, he’s told you before. He wants you to treat him like he’s a piece of shit and you get off doing it, so it’s really no skin off your nose, pun intended. 

“Lay on your stomach across my lap.” 

His eye sockets widen and he whimpers. He had to have known this was coming, right? You’re not about to let him get away with the kind of shit he pulled tonight. 

“please mistress,” Sans says even as he crawls into your lap. Sweat beads on the side of his skull. “you don’t have to do this. i’ll be good, i promise!” 

“I think… mm, twenty sounds about right. One for every minute you made me wait. Does that sound good to you?” 

_ “please,  _ mistress,” he pleads. You smack him on the tailbone, hard enough to make him buck forward. More blue magic smears across your sweatpants and you roll your eyes. Sans is gonna make  _ such  _ a mess of your clothes.

“Shut up. That’s one. Count them.” 

“o-one.” He squints his sockets shut and a few small tears squeeze out. They make you smile to see. 

By five your hand already aches from striking bone and Sans is attempting to subtly rut into your thigh, tears flowing freely down his skull. 

“Stop moving,” you scold, and keep spanking him even though your hand hurts like a bitch and you think your wrist might actually break. 

He’s far from silent throughout the ordeal, a fact which forces you to really put your back into it when you hit him and only makes him cry harder. 

“p-puh- _ lease,  _ mistress, i’ll be good,  _ oh mistress, ah, _ i’ll be so good for you,  _ fuck,  _ p-please!” 

You cluck your tongue and pull your hand back farther for the next strike. The dull slapping sound of skin against bone echoes through the room. “Watch your mouth. What number is this?” 

“twelve,” he whines. 

“Mm. Maybe I would have known that if you had been doing your fucking job and counted like I told you to. We  _ are  _ a brat today, aren’t we?” 

“n-no, mistress.” He hiccups. Then, when your hand comes down again--  _ “thir-hir-teen.”  _

“tw-twent-t-ty!” Sans warbles several minutes later. His whole body is twitching by now, gone bowstring taut like he’s about to cum. 

Which, the little fucking painslut probably is. 

“Very good,” you purr. “Should I pity you now? Do you want me to make you cum?” 

“yes! please mistress, please please please--” 

Skeletons don’t actually weigh very much, so you scoop him off your lap and toss him flat on his back with relative ease. 

You bury your face in that beautiful cunt and it’s a matter of minutes before he’s crying out, phalanges twisting in your hair and his whole body shuddering his release. It gushes into your mouth, spreading across your tongue in a thick smear that dissolves in a fizz and tastes vaguely like blue raspberry. 

“Good boy,” you say finally when he releases you. He sighs, a satisfied smile spreading across his skull despite the tear tracks on his cheeks. 

“thank you, mistress.” 

You didn’t get to cum, or even be touched, but you’re fine with that. Some things are more important than an orgasm, and setting Sans to rights is one of those things. 

You smile back. “Y/n is fine for now, Sans.” He shoots weak finger-guns at you at the acknowledgement that things are back to normal. 

“You’re good?” 

He sighs again, burrowing into the ruined sheets. “so good.” You smooch the side of his skull and wrap him up in your arms, murmuring praise just in case he’s fibbing about being ok. 

“I’m gonna go shower,” you tell him after a while, and on your way out you hear him say, “ _ soap  _ you have a good time,” followed by, “i think my assbone has actual bruises.” 

“I love you and you’re a good boyfriend,” You call back. “But sometimes your assbone needs to get bruised!” 


	3. Research (Papyrus/Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus has an odd fascination. You can teach him about human mating rituals, right? Facial, pornography.

When you first came home from work that evening, you really weren’t expecting to be greeted by the sight of your roommate watching _porn_ on the television, taking _notes_ of all things. It was, perhaps, the last thing you were expecting. In fact, if someone had told you seconds prior that you were about to walk in on _Papyrus_ watching porn, you would’ve laughed in their face and told them that they didn’t know Papyrus at all.

And yet. That’s somehow exactly what’s happening.

Sans is out, again, probably at Grillby’s or somewhere getting hammered and pretending like you and Papyrus won’t be worried sick about him. You, until a few minutes ago, had been at work. It is apparently a prime porn-watching opportunity in Papyrus’s mind.

“So!” you say loudly, startling Papyrus from his note-taking and prompting him to give you a stern look and a _SHHH_ that takes you off-guard.

You press on. This is so not in your roommate contract and you’re not about to put up with it. Even if the idea of Papyrus getting off in your living room doesn’t disgust you nearly as much as it should.

“Pap, sweetie, if you’re gonna watch stuff like this, it’s really something you should do _in. Private.”_ You stress.

You’re glad he’s fully clothed, at least. In fact, he’s giving no real sign of physical interest in the goings-on on screen. You hear a woman squeak and then moan, deep-throated and unnervingly real, and it lights something dangerous in your stomach. You keep your eyes firmly on Papyrus and not the TV.

Papyrus frowns, his sockets narrowing. “YOU WATCH STUFF LIKE THIS IN THE LIVING ROOM ALL THE TIME!”

“Wha--I do _not!”_ You sputter, flushing bright red. When have you ever been so bold as to watch porn in the living room, of all places? Never, that’s when. All your masturbating is done in the privacy of your own room, thank you very much.

“DO TOO! JUST A FEW DAYS AGO YOU WATCHED THAT FILM WITH THE SCARY MAN AND THE CHAINSAW!”

“The scary man--? Papyrus, Texas Chainsaw Massacre is _not_ a porno!”

He looks unimpressed with this defense. “THERE WERE LOTS OF WOMEN SCREAMING AND LOTS OF FLESH EXPOSED.”

“Yes, screaming _in terror._ Not…” You blush harder. “Screaming like the ladies in the movie you’re watching.”

“I FAIL TO SEE THE DIFFERENCE.” Oh, he’s crossed his arms now. You have one stubborn, pervy skeleton on your hands. Though you’re doubting his perviness more and more by the minute.

“The people in what you’re watching are _having sex,_ not getting murdered.”

Your eyes flick up to the screen, where a pretty blonde girl is screaming, her makeup smeared in black streaks down her face as cum drips down her cheek. The camera pans down and you can see that she’s taking two dicks inside her at once. It makes you shudder and you don’t even know if it’s disgust or arousal.

“HAVING SEX?” Papyrus blinks at you, and glances back down at his notepad. His browbones furrow the same way they do when he’s having trouble with the Junior Jumble in the newspaper in the mornings.

“Yeah… you know…” God above, please say that you won’t have to be the one to explain this. Dear sweet Papyrus, the cinnamon roll and the light of your life, ruined by your interference. Maybe you should’ve left him to his porn-watching if only to avoid this conversation. “I think monsters might call it mating?”

“AH! MATING!” Relief overtakes you. Not so innocent after all. You won’t have to explain the birds and the bees today.

Then he squints again at the screen. The blonde woman shrieks as another cock enters her ass, making the number inside her a whopping three. “BUT THEIR SOULS ARE NOT OUT! HOW IS THIS MATING IF THERE ARE NO SOULS INVOLVED? WHAT PURPOSE DOES IT SERVE?”

Yeah, you spoke too soon. Your life is over. You’ll die of humiliation, and then Sans will revive you just to kill you again for corrupting his baby bro.

“Uh,” you scratch at the back of your neck and look at the floor. Wow, your shoes are very interesting. “It just feels good? Sex isn’t always to make a baby. A lot of people do it just because it feels really nice. It’s another way to show you love somebody.”

“WOWIE!” His eyelights turn into little stars (adorable) and he stands suddenly, striding over to you in two giant steps and taking your hands in his gloved ones. “HUMAN, I LOVE YOU!”  

Oh, no.

Please, have mercy.

“AND I WOULD LIKE TO MAKE YOU FEEL GOOD!”

His eyes are shining and your feel your resolve crumbling.

He strikes a dramatic pose.

“WILL YOU DO ME THE HONOR OF HAVING SEX WITH ME?”

Gently, you remove your hands from his with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Pap. I can’t take advantage of you like that. Sex should be between two consenting adults.”

“YOU DO NOT CONSENT?”

You laugh a little awkwardly. “I’m not exactly the problem, sweetie. I worry about your ability to consent, considering you only just now found out what sex even is.”

“I AM AN ADULT! I HAVE BEEN DOING RESEARCH ABOUT SEX ALL EVENING! I LOVE YOU AND WANT TO MAKE YOU FEEL AS NICE AS THE LADY IN THE MOVIE!”

You think of the blonde woman taking three cocks at once and then of your sweet roommate. “It still doesn’t feel quite right for me to touch you like that, Pap. I-I want to, but I don’t know if you really want me to.”

Papyrus’s bemused expression clears. “OH! IF THAT IS THE ONLY PROBLEM, THEN WHAT IF I AM THE ONE TO TOUCH YOU, AND YOU DO NOT TOUCH ME?”

Huffing, you argue weakly, “Well, that doesn’t seem very fair.” But he’s already leading you to the couch and turning the TV off and wow, all of a sudden you’re sitting across from a very determined looking skeleton with little hearts for eyelights and you never had very much self-control anyway.

“WE CAN START SLOWLY, IF YOU PREFER,” he says gently, and you nod. “W-WOULD YOU MIND TEACHING ME? I AM AFRAID THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS NOT YET AN EXPERT IN THIS FIELD!”

You smile, feeling more at ease. “Yeah, Pap. Don’t worry, we’ll make you an expert.” You settle yourself on the couch. “The first step, generally, is to take your clothes off.”

“AH. SHOULD I DISROBE, AS WELL?”

“If you want to.”

He beams at you and strips off his battle body so quickly it seems like you blink and it’s gone. His boots disappear in the same manner and yup, that’s what a naked skeleton looks like.

You give yourself a long moment to just _look,_ before Papyrus flushes orange and starts squirming, stuttering out, “Y-You Too.”

Chuckling, you tug your shirt over your head and shimmy out of your work pants, leaving you in just your bra and your panties. They don’t match-- you weren’t exactly planning on getting laid-- but Papyrus doesn’t seem to mind, raking his eyes over your form and turning a deeper shade of tangerine.

“Take Everything Off, Like I Did!” He scolds, voice still quiet and almost awed.

A bit nervously, you unhook your bra and shrug it off. Then you tug off your panties too, making you completely bare in front of Papyrus. He smiles like the sun when he sees your body.

“Beautiful,” he praises. Then his expression turns heavier and he says, “WHERE DO I TOUCH YOU FIRST?”

“Uh, generally people start at the neck and chest, I’d say.” He immediately brings his hands to your breasts and starts squeezing at them, a bit roughly but nothing you’re particularly adverse to.

“I SAW THIS IN THE VIDEO,” he says smugly, and brings his teeth to your nipple-- is that a _tongue?_ The magical appendage, glowly vibrantly orange, swirls around your nipple and you inhale sharply. “DOES IT FEEL GOOD?” He asks a moment later, pulling off of you with a soft grunt before diving right back in.

Your hands come up to cradle the back of his skull. You’re strangely breathless.  

“I’m not as sensitive as some other girls, but it does—“ You feel your pussy throb as Papyrus’s teeth catch on your nipple. That hasn’t really happened to you before. Maybe it’s his magic? “I-It does f-feel good.”

He continues this way for a few minutes, each scrape of his teeth against you making you a little wetter until you’re all but squirming beneath him.

“Th-That’s probably good, Papyrus,” you breathe, and he pulls away with a grin.

“IT IS A GOOD SIGN THAT YOU ARE WET, YES?” You feel light-headed with how fiercely you blush. You hadn’t thought that he would be able to _notice,_ Jesus. “THE MEN IN THE VIDEO WERE VERY PLEASED WHEN THE LADY WAS WET.”

“It’s a very good sign,” you tell him with more confidence than you feel. You squirm again. All this inadvertent humiliation is feeding a dangerous kink that you’re not really trying to inflict on Papyrus right now. “Means I’m ready for you.”

You gently take his hand, allowing him ample time to protest if he wants to, and guide it to your pussy, letting him trace his phalanges over your opening.

They’re sharp and cold, being bone and all, but you don’t dislike the feeling of them. You buck your hips forward and press his hand closer until you’ve got two of his fingers hilted inside you and you’re both gasping.

“Human,” Papyrus breathes, quieter than you’ve ever heard him. “You feel so good inside. _T-Tight,_ and warm, a-and _wet.”_  

To your shock, one of his eye sockets bulges orange and magic starts to swirl around his ribs, then his spine, and finally his pelvis, forming… oh your goddd he has a dick now.

“Would you mind if I felt it for myself?” Papyrus asks, still so quiet and tentative, and you fall all over yourself saying yes.

He pulls his fingers out with an embarrassing noise and you guide his _glowing, magical penis_ to your entrance, letting him slip inside slowly and _god, sooo deeply._

Papyrus is bigger than any of your ex-boyfriends and you feel filled to the brim with his magic. It feels indescribable, the magic almost crackling inside you. He moans, low and deep in the back of his throat, and you clench up around him.

“Y-You _fuck,_ you can move now,” you choke out. This is bizarre. How did you get in this situation, again? You try to remember but it turns out that your memory degrades rather quickly once you’re speared open on Papyrus’s cock.

“YOU SHOULDN’T SWEAR, HUMAN,” he scolds, but his voice has gone all rough and gravelly, and when he draws his hips back you both moan.

“I’m s-sorry,” you force out as he slams back in. He fills you up so perfectly, so entirely, like he was made to fit inside you.

His hands stroke up and down your sides, seemingly looking for somewhere new to touch you, and you’re quick to take his hand and bring it to your clit, guiding his fingers on it until he can do it all on his own, turning you into human-shaped putty beneath him.

“Harder, Pap, I can take it,” you pant, and he presses his forehead to yours for a breath before going _crazy,_ fucking up into you with abandon and making you shriek.

You’re never a screamer during sex.

God, what is this precious skeleton doing to you?

He speeds up even more and you know from experience that he’s about to cum. His hand moves faster on your clit and soon you’re right there with him, moaning and babbling under his attentions.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck _fuck, Pap, please, baby, ohmygod--”_

Papyrus’s teeth sink into your neck and you cum screaming, your head slamming into the armrest of the couch and Papyrus whimpering as you spasm around him.

He pulls out, mumbling something about, “Want To Do It Like In The Video,” and starts jerking himself off over your face. It only takes a few strokes before he’s cumming, spilling orange magic in thick streaks across your cheeks.

Papyrus’s cock dissipates and he smiles at you, so gently even though his ribcage is still heaving and he’s got some of your slick smeared over his bare sacrum.

“WE SHOULD DO THAT AGAIN SOMETIME, HUMAN!” The sweet smile turns into something devious, an expression you recognize immediately from when he plays pranks on his older brother. “IT WAS VERY… ER, EDUCATIONAL!”

Did he just…

He whistles as he leaves to go back to his room, a little spring in his step as he picks up his clothes from the floor.

You sit there for a little while longer, naked with cum drying on your face, and have the horrifying realization that you’ve been _played._


	4. Teacher (Green/Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your grade in Professor Green's class is less than desirable, so you present your extra credit exam orally. Fellatio, teacher/student relationship, deepthroating, premature ejaculation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, friendly reminder not to sleep with your teachers in real life. It's wildly unprofessional and there are consent issues concerning the power dynamic, and it's just a rough situation to be in, so you're really better off not doing it. But this is porn so I do what I want.

The thing is, you’re a good kid.

You don’t smoke, you don’t really drink, you’ve never been one for fights, and you’ve always managed decent grades even in the roughest of times.

Even in primary school, your teachers never had anything bad to say about you. You were quiet, they said. Well-behaved and surely holding vast amounts of potential.

Your teachers in high school said the same thing.

But somehow, now you’re in college and you have no idea what you’re doing or how you got to this point.

Your grades are slipping. Significantly. Like the “might flunk out of this far-too-expensive school” significant.

The worst one is your Monster-Human History class.

It’s all entirely new information to you. After all, monsters coming above ground again was fairly recent, and the school curriculums were only changed a year and a half ago. You’ve never had to cover any of these lessons before in your life, and you’re suffering for it.

Now you have to spend all your time studying for this one class, leading you to neglect your other classes, which, while being over at least mildly familiar topics, are still college-level and therefore difficult.

You’re pulling a solid C+ average in your other classes.

Your grade for the first semester in Monster-Human History is currently a 53, and unless a miracle happens on the final, you’ll be going into the second semester with that as a final grade on your transcript. Maybe a worse grade, if the test goes poorly.

It’s not that your professor is awful.

He’s a monster, sure, but a nice one. He’s almost _shy,_ and you think he might like poetry? Your friend Linda saw him at one of those cafes where they do poetry slams one time. He wears glasses and turtleneck sweaters and sips chamomile tea from a cat-shaped mug.

He’s a good guy.

A good guy that unfortunately is choosing to give you a 53 in his ridiculously difficult course.

You mention it to your roommate off-handedly when you’re on a rant about how you might get kicked out for something that you feel isn’t entirely your fault. You say something about how Professor Green must just hate you or something, and your roommate snorts inelegantly, replying with:

“Suck his dick, maybe he’ll hate you a little less.”

“Skeletons don’t even have dicks!”

Your roommate raises a brow. “And you know this how? Exactly. I’m just saying, if my professor hated me as much as yours does, I’d start suspecting he had some kinda sexual frustration goin’ on.”

It is with this comment in mind that you begin to formulate your plan.

A plan that, three agonizing weeks later, you are finally able to put into action. Three weeks of failing the course miserably, your grade rising and dipping only to average stubbornly at that same 53.

Three weeks of realizing that now you have the intention of maybe relieving some of Professor Green’s… _tension,_ you seem to be getting slightly hot for teacher, as they say.

Now, every time he gestures with his hands, you find yourself staring at his long, dextrous-looking phalanges, thinking of things that have absolutely nothing to do with Monster-Human History. When he smiles at the class, you think of how he would smile post-orgasm. When he bends over to pick up a dropped pencil, your eyes trace his body all the way down, your eyes devouring every sharp joint and angle.

Basically this fucking course has turned you into an unbelievable horndog and really the only reason you manage to gather the confidence to go through with your plan is because you’re sick of being perpetually aroused in his class without any payoff.

Your scheme is a simple one.

After Professor Green’s last class of the day (your class, actually) you stick around, waiting until the last student leaves and it’s just you and the object of your misguided affections, completely alone.

You flush a bit to be alone with him, even though he’s busy grading papers and hasn’t even noticed you yet. You pull at the hem of your obscenely short skirt, picked out specifically for this occasion, and tug your shirt collar up a bit so your chest isn’t _quite_ so exposed.

Working up every ounce of courage you possess, which isn’t very much, you walk up to his desk with determined strides and clear your throat.

He does not notice. In fact, he starts to hum a little under his breath.

You clear your throat again, louder this time, and he finally looks up, a faint green blush painting his cheekbones.

“Miss Y/n? May I help you?”

You shift back and forth uncomfortably. Gosh, dreaming and doing are two very different things. This is much harder than you anticipated.

“Um, yeah. I was just wondering if there were any alternative assignments or extra credit projects I could do to get my grade up.” You smile self-deprecatingly. “‘Cause I dunno if you remember, Prof, but I have a 53 in this class right now and I’d really like it to be higher.”

Professor Green thinks on this a moment before shaking his head. He looks apologetic and your heart sinks. “I am afraid that there’s not very much I can do this far into the semester. You’ll have to simply do very, very well on the final exam. My sincerest apologies, Miss Y/n.”

And he does seem very sincere.

But you have a goal in mind. You try to steady your heart rate and remember why you’re here.

You plant your hands on his desk and lean very purposefully forward, exposing almost all of your cleavage to the point of your breasts nearly popping out of your shirt.

“Are you sure?” You press, giving your voice a subtle whine like all the schoolgirls’ voices had in the pornos you watched to prepare yourself for this day. “There’s _nothing_ I can do?”

He blushes darker. _Jackpot,_ you think.

“Prof, I would do _anything_ to get my grade up. Whatever’s necessary, I’ll do it.”

“W-Well, Miss Y/n, it’s as I told you: there’s nothing I can do for you at this point in the year.”

His embarrassment has worked to boost your confidence significantly. You bite your lip, smirking internally at his sharp inhale. You lean further over the desk.

“I would do _anything,_ Professor. Literally anything.” Your eyes flick deliberately down to his crotch and he clearly notices, if the way his whole skull goes green is any indication.

He clears his throat.

“Well! I-If that’s really w-what you’re implying, Miss Y/n,” his eyelights burn into you and you barely repress a shiver. His voice is deep and has a certain cadence that's really getting to you. “Far be it from me to stop you.”

Wow, is this actually working? You really, really didn’t expect to get this far. Frankly, you’re surprised he hasn’t called campus police. Or the dean. God, is he gonna call the dean? You’d rather die than face that man.

"If it would benefit you," he takes a deep breath, apparently steeling himself for his next words. "You may present me with your extra credit...  _orally."_  

A bit of a cheesy innuendo, but you like a man who knows what he wants. 

“Glad you see it my way, Professor,” you say cheerfully, and sink to your knees behind his desk.

He opens his legs for you so you can settle between them. Professor Green’s breathing is labored, and there’s a definite _something_ starting to strain at the zip of his slacks, so you suppose your roommate was right about skeletons, after all.

You glance back up at your professor, and he nods, a shy jerk of his skull that makes you smile.

You unzip his pants. The sound of the zipper is impossibly loud in the silence of the classroom. It occurs to you that you might get _caught._ The thought is less frightening and more exciting, if you're honest. 

His dick, when you pull it out, is a translucent shade of green that at first makes you think of the weird slime thing from Ghostbusters and you almost laugh. But you don’t. Because that would be mean and Professor Green is a nice guy who doesn't deserve that.

You study it more closely and realize that the color is actually closer to jade or green aventurine, a cool, almost minty green like a gemstone.

That thought makes it easier to wrap your hand around it and give it a few experimental strokes, grinning when Professor Green gasps.

You run the flat of your tongue over the head like a lollipop and gasp yourself when you taste it. It’s strange and tastes more like green apple, of all things, than actual skin. It’s weirdly alluring, and you’re quick to lick it again, over and over, trying to keep that odd taste on your tongue.

Professor Green’s phalanges wind into your hair and you feel a flash of worry that they might get tangled before deciding _fuck it._ The man has a dick that tastes like candy; he can do what he wants.

“Ah, Miss Y/n,” he hisses through clenched teeth. "Y-Your mouth is--!" His eye sockets slide closed behind his glasses. 

You work your hands up and down his shaft for a moment, smiling up at him. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, Prof,” you say, and then take the entirety of him into your mouth at once, nearly gagging on the length of him.

Your professor groans and the sound goes straight to your stomach, pooling with heat. Your own arousal only makes you even more determined to make him cum.

Deep throating is a sensation that’s weird but that you enjoy. The way you can feel your own throat muscles constricting around his cock, how he clutches you closer, how his hips quiver with the desire to fuck your face. You love the rasp of your own voice afterwards, too, how everyone can tell you’ve been sucking cock and sucking it _good._

You pull off after several long seconds only to dip back down, bobbing your head and feeling the blunt head of his cock hit the back of your throat.

Professor Green, you learn, moans like a bitch in heat.

It’s as adorable as it is intoxicating.

When you hollow your cheeks and run your tongue over the underside of his cock he _squeals._ It’s absolutely amazing. If only all of your partners made gorgeous noises like this.

You start to experiment with what action makes what noise, lapping at the base of his cock and then dipping your tongue into the concave bit of his illiac crests. That particular technique makes him make these sweet little whines and you're sorely tempted to spend the rest of the afternoon like this, suckling at his pelvis like a kitten at a saucer of milk and letting him just sit there and sing for you.

But it's not meant to be. When you take him in your throat again his eyes blow wide and he holds your head down, moaning and shaking and carrying on like a man possessed.

Thick, wet heat shoots into the back of your throat seconds later in several spurts. Normally when people cum so quickly, you're disappointed. With Professor Green, you're  _flattered._ Flattered and weirdly a little too into it, judging by the state of your underwear.

His cum tastes exactly like a green apple jolly rancher and you’re honestly not even surprised.

You swallow and pull away. He looks at you with those same wide eyes as you stand, brushing your knees off and holding out a hand for him to shake, smiling broadly.

“Thanks Prof! Hope that improves my grade a little!”

Professor Green looks at you for a long time before nodding slowly.

“Why yes, Miss Y/n, I believe it will.”

You shake on it.

When you check your grade, it’s been raised to an 86 and your roommate rolls their eyes and says, “I told you so.”


	5. Double Penetration (Mutt/Black/Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Mage_Mitsu: Mutt and Black catch you doing something you're not meant to, and well, if you want an orgasm so bad they might as well give you one, right? Masturbation, light dom/sub, vaginal DP, humiliation, crying. This went in a weird direction guys, my bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys this chapter gave me TROUBLE let me tell you

It’s been exactly one month, two weeks, and two days since you’ve last had sex. 

Maybe it’s a little desperate to keep count, but you can’t help it. You used to have sex at least twice a day, sometimes even more. When you first started dating Black and Mutt, they would often just bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you whenever they felt like it-- and they felt like it  _ often. _

You used to live for it, being dominated so completely by two monsters. They accepted all your weird kinks, shared in most of them even, choking you and collaring you and setting rules for you the way you like. 

It had been so good, which is probably why you feel the loss of your sex life so keenly. 

Now, they’re so busy with work and by the time they get done with it, your shift is just starting. 

You have loads of vacation days banked, so you could take time off if they expressed any interest in you doing so, but that’s just it. They haven’t expressed any interest. 

It’s been exactly one month, two weeks, and two days since you’ve even had an  _ orgasm. _

Three weeks ago, you made an off-hand comment about being unsatisfied, and Black’s eyelights had gone out and he’d dragged you over his lap. You’d thought maybe this was finally the end of your dry spell, but all he’d done was paddle you until you were sobbing and your ass was red, your pussy aching from arousal, before standing up and going up to bed. Mutt had watched, but he hadn’t done anything to relieve you either. 

“shouldn’ta said somethin’ like that to m’lord. you know he gets insecure,” he’d scolded. You had cried harder and waited for someone, anyone to take pity and just fuck you already. 

But nobody came. 

Today is one of your off days, and you sleep in for several hours before finally wandering off into the kitchen to find food. You eat breakfast, then lunch, and sit around for a long while just waiting for your boys to come home. 

You’re still sitting on the couch, around twenty minutes before the boys are due to arrive, and you realize that you’re  _ horny. _

You’re horny and you’re home alone and you actually have the opportunity, for once, to take care of it by yourself. 

One of your rules is ‘no masturbating’ because Black and Mutt are the jealous types and they hate anyone touching you, even yourself. 

But how would they even find out? If they aren’t going to fuck you, you decide firmly, you’ll just fuck yourself. 

You creep upstairs like a naughty child who’s stolen from the cookie jar and is trying to make it to their bedroom undetected. There’s that same feeling of rebellion, like you’re doing something wrong by having perfectly healthy and natural urges. 

If anything,  _ they’re  _ the ones doing something wrong, right? Well, ok, there’s nothing wrong with not wanting to sleep with your partner, but you just wish they would say something to you about it. Acknowledge, “hey, we’re not really interested in you like that anymore so you can just take care of yourself when you get that urge”. 

That, you would be fine with. Disappointed, sure, but understanding. It would make a lot more sense than whatever the fuck is going on now. 

After considering of all this, you feel a lot less guilty and settle yourself in your bed with a comfortable sigh. You know that they’re going to be home soon, but you still can’t help taking your time sliding a hand down under your sweatpants and working yourself over until you’re gasping quietly into your pillow. 

This is  _ nice. _ You missed this, even when you were still having regular sex. Mutt and Black can satisfy you just fine when they want to, but no one knows your body quite like you do. You know all your own little buttons, the exact places and amounts of pressure that will make you breathless. 

After a few minutes, you pull up a video on your phone. You’ve found through countless nights of experimentation in your youth and long hours of lazy masturbation that you can get off while watching basically anything. It’s pretty much background noise, honestly, but there’s something exhilarating about watching a porn video when you know you’re not allowed. 

You didn’t really even pay attention to what video you chose; it was just whatever the first video was on the PornHub homepage. It looks like an amateur home video to you, but again, you’re not really paying attention. 

You’re too focused on the pure sensation of your hand on your clit again after so long, the way your own fingers feel dipping inside your dripping cunt. 

Too focused, that is, until you hear the door open and Black’s obligatory sardonic call of, “HONEY, WE’RE HOME!” 

Maybe you’re an exhibitionist or something. Maybe you’re a brat and you get off on doing things you’re not meant to. Maybe you’re just a  f u c k i n g f r e a k . 

Whatever it is, Black and Mutt announcing themselves only makes you move your hands faster, although you do turn your phone off so they don't hear the porn. You even have the nerve to slide out of your sweatpants and underwear so you can spread your legs further apart for easier access. 

And  _ oh,  _ is access easier. Your fingers go impossibly deeper, curling up inside you to rub against that spot that makes you so crazy. Your other hand speeds up on your clit and you can’t hold back the soft huffs of breath that leave you, you’re so aroused. 

“babe? where are you?” 

Wow, Mutt’s calling you ‘babe’ instead of ‘bitch’. They must be concerned. You’re usually downstairs making dinner or watching a movie in the living room. You’re never in the bedroom so early in the evening. 

“HUMAN? ARE YOU HIDING SOMEWHERE?” 

Maybe. You inhale sharply. Maybe they’ll come looking for you. 

Sure enough, a few moments later, you hear the heavy thud of Mutt’s boots tramping up the stairs. 

“she in the bathroom, m’lord?” 

“NO. THIS IS MOST UNUSUAL! WHY HAS SHE NOT ANSWERED US?” 

Your hands move even faster, your breath coming in short little gasps. Your thighs start to quiver and just as the bedroom creaks open-- 

“babe, you in here?” 

\--You make eye contact with Mutt across the room, his mouth dropping slightly open at the sight of you, and you  _ cum, _ abrupt and unexpected, shuddering and crying out softly. 

His eyelights wink out like Black’s did three weeks ago, and he stands there silently while he waits for you to stop shaking. 

“now, what in stars’ name ever possessed you to do a thing like that.” You always forget how big his fangs are until he’s baring them. They’re so massive. He could bite straight through you if he wanted, and the realization makes you even wetter. 

“m’lord,” he calls down the stairs without so much as turning his head. In fact, he takes a step towards you. You swallow thickly. “i found her. and you’ll never guess what she was doing.” 

“HUMAN!” Black exclaims, and you hear the relief in his voice. You squirm guiltily into the sheets and almost make an attempt to cover yourself, but Mutt’s glare pins you into place. 

Black stomps into the doorway and pauses alongside his brother. He takes in your appearance: flushed, naked from the waist down, and still a bit breathless. Black’s always been good with puzzles. It doesn’t take him very long at all to figure out your predicament. 

To your humiliation, their staring only makes you more aroused, to the point where both of them are sniffing at the air and growling. Smelling you. Smelling the sweat on your skin and the slick dripping from your cunt. 

Black grins, wide and fanged and predatory. “OUR HUMAN HAS BEEN MISBEHAVING AGAIN, HAS SHE?” 

He stalks towards you and you  _ whimper. _ Like a dog. 

Fucking disgusting. 

“certainly seems that way, m’lord.” Mutt approaches the bed with the same savage smile as his brother. This makes you even more nervous than before. “d’you know what she did when i walked in?” 

Black makes a small hum of interest. He walks up to your bedside and considers you for a long, agonizing moment. 

“she fucking  _ came.”  _

Black’s eyes flick to yours, incredulous. “AND  _ HOW _ , EXACTLY, DID THAT HAPPEN?” 

The question is clearly for you. You straighten up until you’re sitting instead of lying back. You clear your suddenly-too-tight throat. 

“I-I was, w-well-- you guys don’t want to sleep with me anymore!” You accuse, and for a second Black’s stern expression seems to soften. 

“WE DID NOT MEAN TO GIVE YOU THAT IMPRESSION, KITTEN.” His hand comes down to grasp your bare thigh. “YOU ARE IN FACT QUITE,” his sockets become heavy and lidded as he breathes in more and more of your scent. You’re unsure of what exactly the whole deal is with monsters and human smells, but you’ve given up on trying to figure it out, honestly.  _ “INTOXICATING.”  _

“so tell m’lord how you came,” Mutt says, coming up on your other side and twining his fingers through your hair. You relax in spite of yourself, the touch easing you. 

When they’re really mad at you, they don’t touch you at all. Mutt running his hands through your hair like this means you’re going to be ok. 

“I-I came whe-when Mutt walked in because I had been…” This is what you always have trouble with. The vocalizing of filthy things, of all that you want to do and have done to you. “...because I was ma-masturbating.” 

“MASTURBATING?” Black repeats, his sockets narrowed. “SURELY NOT. NOT WHEN YOU KNOW IT IS AGAINST THE RULES MY BROTHER AND I HAVE SO GENEROUSLY SET FOR YOU…?” 

You squeeze your eyes shut. This is much more humiliating than you anticipated. God, you hate this. Hate how much you love it. More than anything, you hate how much the situation is arousing you, and how the boys can tell it’s arousing you, too. 

“I was being a brat,” you force out. 

“step one is admitting you have a problem,” Mutt teases. His hand leaves your hair to fall to your opposite thigh, phalanges tapping out a distracting pattern on your skin. 

“What’s step two?” 

“STEP TWO IS TAKING CARE OF THE PROBLEM.” 

Black is stronger than anyone really gives him credit for. He picks you up off the bed (you squeak indignantly) and flips you over so you’re on your hands and knees. 

The position puts your bare pussy on full display for the brothers, and they take full advantage of it. Black kneels on the bed between your spread legs and spends a torturous moment making himself comfortable. 

He draws a finger over your slit and you shiver. 

“So Wet Already,” he murmurs and you feel a hot flush spread over your cheeks. Black looks over to his brother, who is slouched over with his hands in his pockets and a suspicious glowing bulge in his pants. 

“YOU SAID SHE CAME ONCE ALREADY?” 

He smirks at Mutt’s nod. 

“WELL, HUMAN. SINCE YOU WANT TO CUM SO BADLY, WE MIGHT AS WELL ASSIST YOU.” 

They’re going to fuck you. They’re really going to fuck you. Stars, it’s been so long. It’s been a month and a half but you still remember how they do it. You know you’re about to get fucked  _ good. _ Fucked good and full to where you can’t walk straight the next day and you’re sore when your boys come back around in the morning looking for more. 

You’re broken from your reverie by the spark of a tongue prodding at your entrance and you gasp, your head falling forward. Mutt catches you. 

“hey, bro, do you mind if i…?” 

“NOT AT ALL!” 

It’s a bit of an awkward little dance, but eventually you settle in with Black between your legs and you between Mutt’s. Before you know it, you’re choking on Mutt’s cock and Black is spreading you open with an inhumanly long tongue, sucking and licking and trying to lap up every drop of your wetness. 

“fuck, babe,” Mutt rasps, bucking his hips up into your mouth and making you gag. “even when you’ve been bad, you’re still so good for us, huh?” 

You make a vague affirmative noise around his dick and he groans. 

“so eager for us. you love this, getting fucking wrecked by monsters. pretty little human girl and all you want is monster cock in you from both ends.” 

Black is a fucking pussy-eating  _ machine  _ behind you, slack-jawed slurps echoing through the bedroom as he sloppily tongue fucks you, his magic sending tingles through your core. 

Between Black’s tongue and Mutt’s words, you’re practically melting, feeling loose and pleasured in a way you haven’t in a very long time. 

Black pulls away with a low noise and tugs down his pants, giving himself a few strokes before lining up with your entrance. It’s time for the main event and you’ve never been so ready for it. 

“gonna give it to her good, m’lord?” Mutt asks, more for your benefit than anything else. “gonna ruin her?” He smirks. “you gonna stretch her out good for me?” 

You pull off Mutt’s cock a moment to breathe and Black replies by slamming into you in one thrust, bottoming out inside you and making you howl. 

“I’ll Get Her More Than Stretched Out,” Black snarls, and presses his torso flat against your back. You can feel the spiky bits of his battle body poking at you through your shirt and the pain only makes you moan louder. “I Am Going To Destroy You,” he says in your ear. 

You hope it’s a promise. 

He pulls out almost completely, leaving just the tip of his cock still inside you, and then slams back into you, jerking your whole body forward into Mutt. 

“that’s all i had to do to get you to fall for me?” He jokes, and Black’s growl drowns out any reply you might have managed to put together. 

Not that you would’ve like, been able to make actual words or anything. Because, you know, you’re busy being stretched open on Black’s cock and you’re not entirely certain you have two brain cells to rub together. Snappy comebacks are beyond you. 

Black pulls out slow again, and you clench around his cock, desperate to keep him inside. 

“IT MUST HAVE BEEN A LONG TIME SINCE WE FUCKED YOU,” he wheezes. “IF YOU’RE THIS TI-TIGHT!”  

“only gonna get tighter, right m’lord?” 

Before you can attempt to access your limited brainpower and work out what exactly  _ that  _ means, Mutt dislodges you from his lap and slinks over to Black’s end. 

You only have to wonder what he’s doing for a second before there’s a cold, bone finger worming its way inside you alongside Black’s cock. 

This-- 

They’ve never-- 

_ Two at once inside you--  _

You arch your back and make a broken sound, like a sob, collapsing onto your elbows. This only makes both of them slide deeper. Your mind blanks out except for the constant, desperate thought of  _ two  _ of them inside you, filling you up, stretching you so far and satisfying you so completely. 

A second phalange slides in beside the first and you nearly cry. 

“so good for us,” Mutt praises. “think good, loose thoughts, baby. don’t worry, we’re gonna give you what you been wantin’.” 

“GONNA--  _ FUCK-- _ WE’RE GOING TO MAKE SURE YOU REMEMBER WHO THE FUCK YOU BELONG TO.” 

“make it so you can’t walk. you’ll just have to stay in bed and when we come home we’re gonna fuck you again, and again, and again.” 

“HAVE YOU SO--  _ OH STARS, KITTEN _ \-- HAVE YOU READY AND WAITING FOR US ALL THE TIME LIKE A GOOD LITTLE HUMAN.” 

Black’s pace now is punishing, pulling out fast and thrusting back in faster, his pelvis nearly bruising your ass with how hard he’s fucking you.

“I want it!” You cry, pressing your face into the mattress and arching your back higher. This angle is obscene; you can feel every contour of Mutt’s fingers inside you, the pulse of Black’s magic. Mutt adds a third finger. 

“Mutt, just fuck me already!” 

“heh. your wish is my command, baby.” 

He pulls his fingers out with a wet  _ pop  _ that makes you blush even hotter than before. 

“gonna have to make a position change, here.” Only a little awkwardly, he waits for Black to pull out (you whine) and lifts you up so he can settle underneath you. 

Black pushes back in first, and then, several long moments later, Mutt starts to push in too. He must’ve lubed up when you weren’t paying attention because he feels slick and slides in with surprising ease. It's definitely a stretch, but the burn is a pleasant one and if you didn't like a little pain, you probably wouldn't have started dating Mutt and Black in the first place. 

And just like that. 

You have both of them stuffed inside you. Two of them. 

Two cocks inside you at one time. 

Both your loving boyfriends inside you at the same time. 

This time, you actually do sob. 

“color?” Mutt asks from below you, sounding strained. 

“O-Orange,” you say, and then they’re fucking up into you like animals, rutting up into you and setting a brutal rhythm. 

You’ve never been so full before. It’s a bit of a religious experience, being so intimately taken by the two people you love the most in the world. 

They-- 

They’re up in your  _ guts _ , you’re gonna be able to feel them for  _ weeks--  _

Really, it’s no wonder that you cum so quickly. 

Mutt’s voice runs a steady monologue in your ear as you bury your face in his neck vertebrae. “you can cum, baby, we  _ want  _ you to. cum all over our cocks like we want you to. you’re always so good at doing what we want. we want to feel you, wanna feel how tight and wet you can get for us, baby. you gonna give it to us?” 

You start to shake and both the brothers moan, deep and wrecked. 

“Give It Up For Us,” Black murmurs and you fall apart like that, held up on Mutt’s body and speared open on both their cocks.

They keep fucking you for what seems like hours, Black thrusting in and then Mutt, hitting something deep inside you. You cry almost the whole time, rocking your hips back into them and drowning in the feeling of them both. You love them so much it hurts. 

Your soul must project that thought, because Mutt groans that special groan he has just for your soul and you feel his magic pulse inside you before he cums, cursing under his breath and sinking his teeth into your shoulder. 

Black follows soon after, spurting hot magic into your ruined cunt. 

They pull out and let their weird magic dicks that you’ll never quite get used to dissolve. Mutt lifts you gently off of him and you situate yourselves until the three of you are lying comfortably on the bed. Comfortable being a relative term, of course. You ache all over; being sandwiched between two bony skeletons for an hour has bruised you in places you didn't know could be bruised. 

Your chest is still heaving. You can’t seem to get your heart rate under control. That was maybe the most intense thing that you’ve ever done with them. 

“Hey,” you ask tentatively after a few minutes. You can feel their magic coursing slowly down your thighs and the sensation is very distracting. “How come you let me think that-- think that you didn’t  _ want  _ me?” 

Black waves a dismissive hand. His sockets are shut, as are Mutt’s, and they both cuddle close to you on their respective sides. “Was An Exercise In Communication,” he says. 

You puzzle over this for a bit before Mutt clarifies, “wanted you to tell us what you wanted instead of you waiting for us to just take it, you know?” 

“Oh.” You grab a pillow and hit them with it, ignoring their cries of mock pain. “You could’ve just told me that, assholes!” 

The stubbornness of skeletons, honestly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> told u it got weird, didn't I


	6. Virgin (Sans/Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Wrow: You and Sans are newlywed and celebrating your honeymoon. Awkward first time, praise kink, L-bombs, big dick, making love, creampie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is kinda long so I hope you guys like reading lengthy porn lol

There’s lots about being married to Sans that makes you nervous. 

You’re not sure if your relatives  _ really  _ accept him or if they just didn’t want to make a scene at the wedding, you’re not sure if you really were ready to get married (a little late now, ha), you’re not sure about the whole “kids” thing your aunties keep bothering you about-- or if kids are even  _ possible,  _ to be frank. 

You’re a bit of a nervous person in the first place and well, marriages are stressful. 

But there’s one thing that you’re more nervous about than anything else and, unfortunately, as the sun sets, that one thing is only getting nearer. 

You’re sitting on the bed in your hotel room while Sans is in the bathroom “freshening up”. Means he probably fell asleep on the toilet. You don’t blame him-- your flight had been long and exhausting. At least now you’re in Hawaii. The view outside your hotel room is gorgeous, not that Sans knows that, seeing as the minute you walked in he locked himself in the bathroom. 

You twist your new ring on your finger. You might be anxious, but the sight of the wedding band still makes you smile in spite of yourself. 

You’re one half of a married couple now! This has been one of your biggest dreams for as long as you can remember. Getting wifed up. Finding true love. 

That’s the thing about marrying Sans. You might be unsure of some things, but at least you’re sure of his feelings towards you and yours towards him. 

This thought in particular is what bolsters your self-confidence and gives you the strength to draw the curtains on an admittedly beautiful Hawaiian sunset so you can strip down. You unzip your dress with shaking fingers so you’re left in just the lingerie you and your best friend picked out specifically for this occasion. 

You know you probably look silly. The lingerie was expensive and it’s absolutely gorgeous: a beautiful silk babydoll dress and a lacy thong that had matched your garter. But anyone with working eyes could tell that you’re not exactly meant for beautiful things. 

_ Sans loves me,  _ you tell yourself, and knock on the bathroom door in spite of your insecurity. 

There’s a thud and a snuffling sound and a, “hmm, babe?” from the other end. You smile fondly and shake your head. 

“Sans, baby, you coming out anytime soon? We have business to take care of!” 

“oh, shit, yeah. my bad, babe. we got that paperwork to take care of still, right? gimme a minute, i’ll be right out.” 

You wait about thirty seconds before you start to have some serious regrets. This is stupid, you should just go back to bed, put on some pajamas, watch a show-- 

The door swings open and Sans rubs sleepily at his sockets. 

“sorry i fell asleep, but that plane ride wasn’t too  _ fly, _ if you catch my drift.” He blinks a couple of times and he sees you before you can hide. 

A bright blue flush spreads over his skull and sweat beads at his temples. His eyelights scan you up and down and you flush too, feeling your neck and chest going splotchy red in embarrassment. 

Stupid, you think. This was such a stupid idea. 

“oh.” His voice is husky.  _ “that  _ kind of business.” 

You turn impossibly redder. “Yeah,  _ that _ kind of business.” 

Sans’s whole demeanor changes; suddenly wide awake, he slinks towards you, easing his hands over your hips. 

“well,  _ babydoll,” _ he toys briefly with the hem of your dress to emphasize the pun and you think you’re going to explode from the amount of heat that floods your face. “it is our honeymoon, after all.” 

“you sure you wanna  _ bone _ a skeleton?” 

“More than anything,” you breathe, and then immediately feel the burn of humiliation once more. Being this close to Sans while you’re wearing so little is making your brain short-circuit, apparently. Makes you say embarrassing shit like that without thinking about it first. 

He chuckles and you want to keep the sound forever, bottle it up and preserve it and tuck it away in your heart, it’s so perfect. 

Sans’s thumbs rub circles into your hipbones. “do you know how fucking beautiful you are?” You do not. “you’re gorgeous. dressed up like this, wrapped up all pretty for me.” 

You laugh weakly and he narrows his sockets. 

“you’re really sure about this?” You nod, but you know that look in his eyes. Oh no, he’s going to CHECK you, isn’t he? 

“No, Sans, don’t--!” 

Before you can stop him, he’s got your soul pouring out all the embarrassing truths of your insecurity in a long stream, CHECKing you and CHECKing you until your soul runs out of things to say. 

Sans reads the messages your soul spews out loud, to your mortification:

*your new wifey

*loves you a lot but has difficulty accepting love in return 

*thinks she’s less cute than she is

*never been taken to the bonezone 

*trusts you to make love to her 

*your new wifey

“Oh my god,” you groan, and move to cover your face with your hands but Sans catches your wrists. 

“you’ve never…?” 

You bite your lip, looking down at the floor. There’s a ketchup stain on one of Sans’s shoes. 

“Never.” 

“oh,” Sans says, but he doesn’t sound disappointed. In fact, he sounds…  _ breathless. _ Reverent. Awed that you’re planning on giving him your virginity. Maybe your ears are broken or something. 

“i love you,” he tells you, and you believe him. 

“I love you too.” 

He embraces you briefly before taking your hand in his and pulling you towards the bed. It’s big and comically heart-shaped. You’re in the honeymoon suite, after all. 

He kicks his shoes and socks off and you both plop down onto the mattress. You sink down what seems like two full inches, it’s so soft, and Sans bounces it a little before turning back to you, his sockets lidded and a lazy smirk on his face. 

“that outfit is real cute, baby,” Sans says, dragging his palms up your thighs. You have goosebumps and you tell yourself that you must be catching a chill from walking around in your underwear. He leans in close to whisper in your ear, “but i can’t wait to take it off you.” 

You shiver. Forget catching a chill, you’re  stupid  nervous and you know it. 

“Kiss me?” You ask tentatively. Maybe your nerves will lessen after some smooches from your new hubby. 

He chuckles and brings his mouth to yours, nuzzling at you in the skeleton version of a kiss. You relax into him, squeaking a little when his hands start to rub at your thighs. You’re being  _ groped. _ The idea makes you blush, but not nearly as much as the thought of what’s to come. 

Sans’s bone fingers move from your legs to play up your sides, coming slowly up to cup your breasts. 

You gasp into his mouth. 

He pulls away. “you good?” You nod. He grins and continues. 

“can i take this off?” Sans asks, tugging at your dress. You know you’re not wearing anything underneath it, but you nod anyway. Jumping in head first, and all that. 

He pulls the little babydoll dress off of you in one go, and your heart breaks a little to see that he’s accidentally ripped the strap. Oh well. It’s served its purpose anyway. 

Now you’re naked from the waist up, ugly red patches of blushed skin trailing all the way down your chest. You wish you weren’t so easily embarrassed, if only to prevent your horrible blush. 

“gorgeous,” Sans purrs. “my beautiful wife. so fucking  _ pretty,  _ you know that? just looking at you drives me crazy. fucking  _ look _ at you,” he says, pressing a hand to your sternum and feeling your heartbeat pick up. He loves all your little humanisms, from your pulse to the way your blood rushes up to make you blush. 

He shifts his weight to tug you closer, putting you nearly in his lap. The dress falls off of the bed and pools in a sad little puddle of fabric on the floor, useless. Maybe you’ll be able to fix the broken strap later, you think. 

Then all of a sudden you’re not really thinking about the dress, because Sans’s hands are clutching at your chest and you never knew that you could be so sensitive. There’s something about the fact that it’s  _ him _ touching you that sets your nerves on fire, sparks lighting beneath your skin everywhere his hands go. 

Your breasts seem to perfectly fill his hands, and he tells you so. “you’re perfect for me, you see this? made to be mine.” All these compliments are making you feel lightheaded. And feel… other things. Unfamiliar heat is starting to curl in your abdomen, your guts twisting up tighter with every word. 

“can’t wait to fuck you,” Sans says, and you physically gasp at how those words affect you. “bet you’ll be so good and tight for me.” He winks. “wet, too, if i do my job right.” 

He pinches at one of your nipples and your back arches to where you think it might break. You’re  _ never _ sensitive like this. Well. Not like you would really know, would you?

Either way, judging by the glow in Sans’s eye socket, you’re pretty sure he’s cheating. 

“What’re you,  _ hah,  _ using magic for, baby?” 

His stupid grin widens. “got a lil surprise for you. well, heh. guess it’s kind of a  _ big  _ surprise.” 

Then he brings his skull down to your breasts and you’re much less focused on what exactly he means by that. 

It might be weird to enjoy the sensation of literal teeth scraping across your chest, but Sans doing exactly that has you squirming, arching up into his touch. 

“Love you,” you rasp, hands coming up to clutch at the back of his skull as his tongue flicks over your nipples. “Love you so much, Sans,  _ stars,  _ j-just keep doing that.” 

“nah,” he says, pulling away. “i got something better to do.” 

“lay back,” Sans murmurs, pushing you gently down into the sheets. You comply, a bit confused, but eager all the same. 

You think you might pass out when Sans hitches one of your legs up and settles with his face between your thighs. 

“you cool with this?” 

You’re not entirely sure what ‘this’ is, but you’re not completely naive. You have a general concept, and the general concept is admittedly a very compelling one. 

“Y-Yeah.” 

If you’re right, then he’s gonna put his mouth on your...

Sans shifts your lace panties to the side, thankfully not ripping them. These are the cutest underwear you’ve ever owned and if they get fucked up you’ll be very disappointed. 

Belatedly, it occurs to you that Sans now has his face alarmingly close to your most intimate place and oh god, what if he hates it, what if he hates you, what if he’s regretting getting married to you because your pussy is ugly oh no everything’s going wrong you hate this-- 

_ “fuck,  _ you even  _ smell  _ good.” He nuzzles at your crotch, the ridge of his nasal cavity scraping at you a little, but you don’t even mind because he looks so pleased. Like his being able to eat you out is the greatest gift you could’ve possibly bestowed upon him. 

“fuck, i love you.” His voice is a growl now, low and snarling, almost like he’s overcome by his own lust. “love you and love this pretty little cunt. i can’t wait to see you cum, baby. you’re gonna look so sexy like that, all shaky and shit, and calling  **_my name_ ** .” 

He’s close enough now that you can feel his breath against you, hot on your clit. That curl of heat in your gut has become a constant burning, an ache in your core that makes you buck up into the warmth of Sans’s mouth. 

“Give it to me,” you pant, distantly awed at the desire in your own voice. “I want it, baby, please.” 

He smirks. “i do love a gal who knows what she wants.” 

You’re about to whine at him again to just do something already, but he beats you to it by licking a long stripe over your pussy. His tongue is hot and wet and unlike anything you’ve ever felt down there. Your own lubed fingers are nothing in comparison to the feeling of Sans’s tongue diving in and out of your entrance, making a lewd slurping noise that embarrasses you almost as much as the noises you make in return.

“perfect,” he says into your cunt. Your clit is swollen and he drags a thumb in lazy circles over it. “i knew you would be so good like this. you’re always so good for me. fucking wet and  _ ah,”  _ Sans dips his tongue back inside you for a moment, like he can’t stand to stop tasting you long enough to finish his sentence.  _ “tight  _ for me, stars.” 

The tension in your stomach starts to coil as he keeps licking at you, pausing now and again to suck on your engorged clit. 

“Sans, I’m g-gonna, fuck, baby, I’m close--”

“c’mon, do it, babe, i want it,” Sans growls. That sound,  _ God,  _ the sound of his voice makes you so crazy.

Your hips buck up into his skull, your thighs clenching around him as spasms wrack your body. Under Sans’s gentle encouragement and the movement of his thumb on your clit, you slowly come back down and relax, boneless on the bed beneath him. 

“there we go.” Sans’s smirk is immensely self-satisfied. “good job, baby.” 

You smile weakly.

“you wanna keep going? we can stop now if you want.” 

Oh shit, yeah, in all the excitement, you had nearly forgotten about what the focus of the night was supposed to be. 

Speaking of, Sans’s pants are tented and… glowing? Glowing bright blue, the same color as his magic. And the tent is  _ massive.  _

“You gonna fuck me, baby?” You’re genuinely curious, and after what you’ve just done, asking something like that seems much less intimidating. 

“mm, i was planning on it. ain’t gonna do nothing if you don’t wanna.” 

“Oh, I wanna,” you tell him, and you’re almost surprised at how truthful you’re being. You were scared before, but Sans clearly thinks you’re worth desiring, and if you want him and he wants you, what’s holding you back? 

You swallow thickly. You want him, even if the exact mechanics of what you want are still a bit scary. He thinks you’re beautiful, you remind yourself. He thinks you’re beautiful and he loves you and he’d never do anything you didn’t want.

“C’mere,” you say, determined to be confident. 

You sit up and pull Sans closer, smooching him once on the cheek and taking quiet pride over the flush that paints his cheekbones. 

“Let me take care of you.” 

You both work together to pull his shirt off and you take your time in exploring his ribcage, running your hands over the bone and kissing every crack and chip in them. 

He takes in a deep, shuddering breath that rattles his bones. “this isn’t gonna last too long if you keep doing stuff like that, babe.” 

Laughing a little to yourself, you hook your thumbs in the waistband of his pants and look up, seeking confirmation. Sans nods, and you slowly work his pants down to his ankles. He kicks them off, giving you a clearer view of his crotch through his boxers. 

To be fair, you don’t know a whole lot about the average penis size, but to you, Sans looks large. Real large. Like upwards of seven inches large. 

You’re somehow made both incredibly nervous and aroused by this revelation. 

Sans starts to sweat. “you, uh, you like what you see?” 

How can he even ask something like that? He must know he’s gorgeous. He’s the love of your life, of course you like what you see. He’s beautiful. 

“You’re beautiful.” 

Steeling yourself, you tug his boxers down, revealing a very hard, very blue, magic cock that really should look dumb. It shouldn’t make you even wetter than you already are. It also is just as massive as you thought. Fuck, will it even fit inside you?

You must make a hesitant expression, because Sans starts fumbling to reassure you. “it’s ok, i know it’s kinda weird, you really don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” 

“It’s okay! I want to, Sans.” You chew on your bottom lip. “It just looks, ah, big? Really big. I don’t know that I’m sure what to do with it!” 

Sans looks relieved and laughs, waggling his browbones.  

“too much man for you, huh? don’t worry, baby. i got the goods.” He produces from seemingly out of nowhere a bottle of lubricant and waves it triumphantly, making you giggle. 

“lay back down, beautiful wife of mine, we got sheets to ruin.” 

Sans has such a way of making you feel at ease. “As you say, handsome husband of mine.” 

You lie back down and Sans crowds up into you, slotting himself between your legs closely enough for you to feel his cock prodding against your inner thigh. 

He drizzles lube over two of his fingers and plunges them inside you, making you yelp and throw your head back into the many pillows that cover the bed. “sorry,” he grunts, but keeps working his phalanges in and out of you, scissoring them and doing his best to stretch you out. 

The bone of his hands feel weird inside you, but overall not so different from your own fingers, so it’s relatively easy for you to relax and let him fuck you open, spreading you to be able to fit his cock. 

“you feel so good around my fingers,” he mumbles. His voice has taken on that rough, animalistic quality again. “can’t imagine how you’ll feel around my cock.” You clench around him at the words, unable to conceal your arousal.

“you ready?” 

Your nod is tight but definite. You’re going to do this. You’re going to lose your virginity. 

Sans pulls his fingers out and pours what looks like probably too much lube over his cock. The lubricant spills out onto the covers. Somehow you don’t think that’s what he meant when he said you two would “ruin the sheets”.

He lines his cock up against your entrance, and he starts to push inside.

He seems so much larger now that he's inside. He feels as thick around as a fist, opening you up wider than you had believed was physically possible. 

You whine and Sans shushes you gently, leaning close and murmuring praise. “i love you, i love you, you’re so good, so perfect for me. stars, i love you so much. you’re the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen. such a good girl, can’t believe you’re mine. fuck, you make the best sounds.” 

He eases further and further inside, inch by inch, compliments pouring from him with every movement of his hips. 

“never had a girl like you before. never even seen someone as fuckin’ perfect as you, fuck, baby. i love you, i love your body, your soul,  _ everything,  _ baby.” 

The stretch is painful and you can feel the minute he pushes through your hymen, his cock pressing through the barrier of it and stabbing into you. 

You make a pathetic little noise and Sans pauses, his socket glowing momentarily brighter. He must do something with his magic, because after that the pain is gone and there’s only the raw feeling of your husband inside you, hot and huge, stretching out your cunt with the size of his cock. 

“‘m gonna move now, okay, baby?” 

_ “Yes,”  _ you sigh. Now that there’s no pain, you can feel that there’s very definitely  _ pleasure.  _ He’s so big that his cock fits snugly against your cervix, filling you to the brim and leaving you feeling completely stuffed. 

His hips start to move in slow, long thrusts that roll through your body. You’re comfortable and aroused and you feel good, but you want  _ more. _

Sans apparently does too. 

He moans, low and deep and broken-sounding, and starts stuttering apologies. “fuck, i’m sorry, babe, i’m sorry but i-i gotta, i gotta--  _ fuck.” _

The speed of his thrusts picks up abruptly until he’s nearly slamming into you, your chest bouncing with every movement of his pelvis. 

You moan at the feeling of him, fucking you full and hard. Aren’t first times meant to be slow and sweet…? Ok, Sans is being plenty sweet, but slow? Not so much.  You’re really getting well and truly fucked. He’s railing you, rutting up into you so hard you can feel his illiac crests poking into the soft flesh of your thighs. 

_ “baby,”  _ he groans. The bed is starting to rock. “you-- i’m sorry, but you--you’re so cute and tight and  _ oh, you’re so wet,  _ so good for me, fuck. i-i might cum sooner than,  _ ah, _ than you might want.” 

He can cum whenever he needs to, you think. The thought of his cum spilling inside you makes you just as hot as him fucking you. 

You slide a hand between your body and Sans’s and rub your clit, thinking of Sans filling you up and letting his movements grow more erratic above you as he gets close to coming. 

_ “a-ah, fu-uck,”  _ he whines, spine bowing over you as he cums, spilling his magic thick and hot inside you. “i lo-love you so much, babe.” 

_ “Hah, _ love you too, Sans!” You start to cum just as Sans finishes, and he graciously waits a moment before pulling out to give you the opportunity to cum on his cock. 

“i was right,” he says a few minutes later, once he’s pulled out and flopped down on the bed beside you, the both of you sweaty and panting. 

“Oh, yeah? What about?” 

Sans grins lazily and slides his sockets shut. “you do sound good calling my name.”

You roll your eyes and let him cuddle you close.  _Happy honeymoon to me,_ you think, and sleep more easily than you have in a long time. 


End file.
